


Cold Reunion

by Mackem



Series: Imaginary Advent Calendar 2012 [16]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magneto is only back in New York to recruit a new mutant. It's just a coincidence that Charles is doing the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Every year, I write what I call my Imaginary Advent Calendar, where each day until December 25th I open another day of an advent calendar that doesn’t exist and write what I picture various people or characters in different shows/fandoms/books in a holidays context. This year I’ve challenged myself to write a ficlet for every day. See Vicky panic! They’ll be in various different fandoms and pairings, and won’t be particularly long (except the ones that eat my brain). Enjoy! X!
> 
> Oh, Charles and Erik, how I miss you. My heart aches for your tragic romance. This is set post-film.

Magneto has not set foot New York in several months now. Not since they left in Hank - in _Beast’s_ jet, headed towards the battle. He has, in fact, deliberately tried to stop himself thinking about New York, and everybody within. The time he spent here had been so brief; it feels like it was a lifetime ago. It should be easy to make himself forget.

It isn’t.

He may not particularly wish to return to this place, but Emma has located a powerful, if young, mutant within the city; a mutant who could be of great use to his cause. Preparing for the battle ahead trumps any personal feelings, without question. Magneto sets out immediately, address in hand. He insists on travelling alone; New York is under constant surveillance, and he is the only one guaranteed to slip under the radar.

It is cold. December hangs sullenly over the city, blowing an icy gale through the streets. A thin layer of snow crunches underfoot, occasionally spotted with bright colours shining from the decorated windows of houses he passes. Magneto ignores them, focussing only on the house he needs, in the middle of the long street.

As he approaches, he realises he’s not the only mutant out searching for his own kind today. He halts at the gate to the mutant‘s house, hard eyes fixed on the approaching wheelchair. What use is his helmet if Charles is around to _see_ him? 

This is too much. Who would have alerted him? His mind whirls furiously. There is no love lost between Emma and Charles, and Azazel is devoted to the cause…Mystique? She is the obvious candidate, but surely she would not betray him like this. She was devoted to Charles, he knows that, but he trusts the choice she made on the beach. Personal feeling is not comparable to their fight.

He repeats that to himself as he waits for Charles to approach.

"Well now," Charles murmurs as he draws up in front of Magneto. His surprise is clear in his expression, but Magneto feels himself bristling regardless. "This _is_ a coincidence.”

“Coincidence?” Magneto echoes with a snort. “Is that the word you’d use?”

“Of course. What else?” Charles asks, before his boyish face spreads into a warm smile. “Perhaps ‘pleasant surprise’ would suffice instead. It’s good to see you again, Erik. How are you?"

"Magneto," he corrects sharply. Charles sighs, and concedes the point with a nod of his head. He's wearing a thick coat, and a knitted woollen scarf is wound around his neck. A few flakes of snow have gathered in his hair and his cheeks are slightly flushed in the frosty air. It's a little too mesmerising. Magneto clears his throat, glad yet again to have his helmet settled on his head. "Erik Lensherr died long ago, Charles. You know this."

"Do I?" Charles asks carefully. He shakes his head after a moment of consideration, his eyes tracking over Magneto‘s face. "No, I don't think I do. I believe Erik Lensherr lives on, somewhere inside you. He may be buried deep, but I believe he still lives and breathes."

"Are you trailing me, Charles?" Magneto asks sharply. Charles laughs, and pointedly indicates his chair. 

"I have people far better suited to reconnaissance than I am, don‘t you think?" he says, voice mild. "Hank has been good enough to come Christmas shopping with me. He’s just down the street, waiting in the car. I happened to sense a powerful mutant as we dove past here, and it seemed silly not to stop.”

“You sensed me?” Magneto demands. Charles laughs softly, his eyes shining sadly.

“Dear me, no. I’ve not felt your presence since you first put that helmet on,” he murmurs, glancing at it, before letting his eyes settle on Magneto with a lopsided smile. “I feel nothing from you, Erik. Even with you standing here beside me.”

“ _Magneto_ ,” he corrects with a growl. Charles sighs.

“I sensed the girl in this house, _Magneto_. My being here at the same time as you is nothing more than a simple coincidence, I assure you. I suppose it’s only fair that I should ask the same of you,” Charles says evenly. “Are you following _me_ , Er - Magneto?"

Magneto bristles. "I have better things to do than follow you around, Charles!"

"And you assume I don't?" His mouth clicks shut in surprise, despite Charles' polite tone. He coughs, trying to cover his sudden discomfort.

"How should I know what you're doing nowadays?"

"You could ask?" Charles suggests. 

" _Why_ would I want to know what you're doing?" Magneto asks angrily. The regret that hits him with Charles' hurt look is surprising. He has become very adept at blocking out such feelings in the past few months. Charles, however, has always worn his heart on his sleeve. He looks away from Magneto, blue eyes wide and wounded, before he issues an awkward smile.

"Why indeed? I suppose I can't answer that."

"Charles," Magneto sighs, but Charles interrupts him smoothly. 

"Do go ahead." He swings his chair aside and opens the gate, with a polite wave towards the young mutant’s home. Magneto looks from the house back to Charles, confused.

"What?"

"Coming here was a mistake, and I see that now. I may as well just let you pass. I could hardly beat you to the door," he murmurs. Magneto winces. He can hardly look at the wheelchair.

"I'm sorry."

"Yes. I do believe you are," Charles says after a moment. His eyes are fixed on Magneto, narrowed and calculating, as if looking through him. He straightens up, determined not to feel cowed. It's not as if Charles can see what he's thinking.

"This," he says, and waves his hand towards the chair, "Was not what I wanted."

"Do you really think so?" Charles asks. He speaks in a curiously detached tone that makes Magneto want to rage at him, just to get a reaction. "I thought you wished to bring down humanity, and all that stood with them."

"Not you!" Magneto snaps. " _Never_ you, Charles! How could you think that of me, after everything we had? Do you _really_ think this is what I wanted?"

"I used to know what you wanted," Charles murmurs. His eyes are shuttered. "Now I suppose I don't. Not any more." Magneto sneers at him, and tries to seize the upper hand.

"Does it bother you? That you can't check?" he snaps, with a pointed tap of his helmet.

Charles smiles, brittle and fragile. "What bothers me is that you don't trust me _not_ to check without your headgear."

“I don’t trust you not to stop me,” Magneto retorts. He falls silent as Charles nods and looks away. He doesn’t speak for a long moment.

When he breaks the silence, his tone is measured and civil. "Do go ahead, won't you?” he invites, with a gesture to the open gate. He turns his chair so he has his back to the house. “As I said, I‘ve changed my mind. I shouldn't have come to bother a family so close to Christmas."

"That's right, Charles," Magneto says, with a smirk. "Think of making people _happy_ , instead of the cause. What does a holiday matter when we’re preparing for war?"

"Happiness matters. Holidays matter," Charles sighs. "You used to believe that. Don't you remember your mother lighting - "

"You have no right to speak of that!" Magneto roars.

Silence falls between them again. Magneto breathes deeply, desperately trying to collect himself.

“I apologise,” Charles says eventually. His voice is gentle, and quiet, tinged with tiredness. “I merely wished… I suppose I was presumptuous.”

“You always are,” Magneto manages. He’s shaking minutely, struggling to cling to his control.

“Yes, I can’t deny that,” Charles agrees softly. He produces a small smile, and unwraps the scarf from around his throat to hold it out to Magneto. “Would you forgive me one last shameless request?”

He takes the scarf with a confused frown, running the warm material through his fingers. It‘s thick red wool, soft and clearly handmade. “Do I have a choice?”

“Would you give that to Raven, please?” Charles asks. “I made it myself.”

“You knit?” Magneto asks, bewildered. Charles laughs briefly. It sounds forced and hollow, and does nothing to lighten Magneto’s heart.

“I had to do _something_ while I was laid up in bed recovering. Learning to knit passed the time, at least. That was the first thing I managed to finish,” he murmurs, staring at it for a moment until his eyes rise to meet Magneto’s. “I’d like Raven to have it. As a Christmas present, I mean. And do tell her I’m thinking of her, won’t you?” he asks, before sighing and shaking his head. "Mystique, I should say. I suspect she won't answer to Raven. Not any more."

Magneto swallows. "She will," he says softly. "From you, Charles, she will." Charles offers him a weak smile, and turns his chair back down the street, slowly moving away.

"Marvellous. Thank you, Magneto. I appreciate your kindness.”

“Kindness,” he echoes, before calling after Charles. “Is that it?”

The wheelchair stills.

“There is one more thing, actually,” Charles says. He remains staring down the street, refusing to face Magneto. “If you happen to find the man who was Erik Lensherr," he asks evenly, "Do please tell him I love him. And wish him a happy Hanukkah, please. I know how much he used to enjoy it."

Magneto watches him go silently, the wool held tightly in numb hands and the cold wind blowing through him.

The scarf smells of Charles, and of home.


End file.
